Drawn Together
by Fullelven
Summary: A tiny little fic about my Mage and her templar Cullen.


**Title: **Drawn Together  
**Author: **TheTemplarsWetDream  
**Summary: **Just something that started as a free write and became a little fic-let about my Dragon Age Origins mage and Cullen.**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters. They belong to Bioware/EA Games.

She felt drawn to him.

At first it had been something completely innocent, she just liked to make him stutter. But later it had become something more.

Somewhere, lost in Cullen's awkwardness, he'd made Kaela feel like she was something _more_ than just some Dalish Deserter of her tribe. He'd made her feel like she was more than just some ambassidor come to share the tribe's magics with a Circle of Mages. He'd made her feel like she was more than just someone who turned their back on their bloodline.

He made her feel like _Kaela_.

And that Kaela was someone special.

She had skipped through hallways, either the instigator or the solution to a problem. Somedays she would be both. Either way, her name was known, and though people tried to get close to her, she would find ways to defect to the "out crowd." Kaela didn't have a house, she wouldn't take up the name Surana. She had given up Mahariel willingly, and so she was born, she could never become anyone else.

That suited her fine. Now she was just her.

Kaela was as unique as she ever could be, the way she flitted this way and that between people, and studies, and problems. She was like a hummingbird, anxious to soak in as much nectar as she could. However, there was always just that one flower she returned to.

Cullen the Templar. _Her Templar_.

_"I need to study a little later, Greagoir, I'm sure you won't miss Cullen."_ She would always say before bounding off toward the library without waiting for an answer. Most of the time, Cullen would be found sliding in moments later, a curious look upon his features until he found her waiting patiently perched atop a book covered table. Mischief played on her deep red lips, glinting like electricity in her green-hazel eyes.

She always looked like a child, no matter how much she grew, opting to keep her hair in pigtails no matter how old she got. And if she cut her hair? No problem, she would just make more pigtails out of it. In Cullen's eyes, it was this innocence that made her so radiant in the first place. Like the Maker had put her there as a beacon of light to shine on even the darkest spots of Ferelden. He could look...but never touch.

Even if he wasn't a Templar, sworn to his vows, any touch would likely taint his flower and cause her to wither.

It was with timid enjoyment that he would show up on these late night sessions, to stand off in the corner and watch her weave her spells. Like light whispers on the wind, they'd twirl and shimmer, twinkling like stars brought down from the heavens to live in her eyes. He would watch, unblinking, trying to keep his face passive for fear that someone might learn of his passion.

His passion for his little flower.

Come morning post or not, he'd stay up as long as she wished, to observe her physical practice or wait in silence as she read. Only too often would she fall asleep by candle light and rather than wake her, he awkwardly hoisted her into his arms and carried her back to her bunk. Her smell...like wildberry and fresh flowers...stuck with him until he washed up before bed. Even then, when it was off from his skin, it would linger in his mind until he was fast asleep.

And they'd find themselves drawn to one another, again. This time it would be through the Fade.

_The broken terrain would be cracked beneath her bare feet, but still she skipped along as if she had not a care one in the world. He would always be a few feet behind her, just watching, keeping his distance. But she knew, she always knew, and she'd stop and turn with a laugh and wave to him. Sometimes she'd even ask him to join her. _

_"Cullen, you're always so shy. I like that about you. It shows more of you than you know."_

_"You...like that about me?"_

_His surprise would bring giggles from her, that filled his heart with the flutter of a thousand butterflies wings. "Of course, silly! You're the least stuffy thing in this Tower. And probably, the one person that can be taken at face value for who they are. I like that a lot!"_

_Cullen would smile until his ears burned with blush, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. And she would lean ever so close to him, until she nearly laid in his lap and question him. "What do you like about me? You have to like something or you wouldn't come around so much."_

_"I-I..." There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. After all, he knew all too well that this was more than just a dream. It was the Fade, where things were always more real than they seemed. _

_She grinned still, seemingly pleased with his answer--or lack thereof-- and would go back to saying nothing at all. It would seem like hours they would remain in silence, within one another's company. Sitting, standing, walking...it didn't matter. No matter the case, they always seemed to be drawn to one another through the dark of the night._

But day would come and she would be back to her rambunctious self, following Niall and Jowan around, or beating up a kid for picking on one of her friends. It would normally be he to escort her to Irving's quarters, as he just "happened" to always be near. It never failed though, and never once in her rages did she ever hurt him. No...when he pulled her off of them for wronging someone, she cooperated fully. However, should another Templar come...they would be glad for the full plate they wore.

With time, people grew aware of the strange attachment of Templar and Mage, to the point where both were watched more closely. Rumors were whispered, talks were given, but it didn't seem to phase her one. Greagoir stopped allowing him to follow her to her late night training sessions, and so she stopped asking to stay up later to train. The students gossiped about his affections for her, and the reigns were pulled tighter around them still.

And yet, in the freedom of night, deep within the Fade, they'd stand, or sit, or walk. They didn't have to say a word.

They were just...drawn together.


End file.
